A/N: So, I just watch the reruns, I don't know what season this takes place in or whatever but it's during the time when Harry is having his breakdown. Enjoy, review. It's random.

Maybe it had been a lot to ask of one person. Maybe she should have known better when it came to expecting that one person could do so much. Maybe she was a little to blame for the way things had turned out. Maybe he knew of all her expectations, all her hopes, the way that she saw him and it had been too much for him. Maybe the pressure had been too great, not just the pressure from himself but from her as well. Whatever the reason, it had happened and there was nothing that either of them could do about it now.

And as she sat, knelt in front of him, she found herself staring into the face of someone she didn't know anymore, someone who was completely unfamiliar. It was a shock, a terrible blow and she almost couldn't believe it, found herself wondering if maybe she hadn't walked into the wrong house, into someone else's life. Surely, this wasn't the same man that she had loved, the same man she so looked up to and wanted to be like. Surely she wasn't the same woman that she had been, a doting and loyal follower, a good lover, someone who wasn't supposed to be trying to keep someone from coming apart at the seams. Such things didn't happen to people like them.

People like them. They were supposed to be strong, leaders, nurturers. That was what society had decided they would be. They were supposed to make a difference; they were supposed to know exactly what to do and when to do it. The future was at stake, after all. He had been her rock, her leader, the man who had nurtured her. She had looked up to him without even admitting it to herself, looking to him when she didn't know where else to turn her gaze, making him into a shoulder to cry on and an idea on a pedestal. Maybe it had been a lot to ask for one person, but she wouldn't have been able to help herself otherwise. Someone like him…he was too strong to be the person he was now. She must be in the wrong house.

But he was shaking so badly, his watch rattling on his wrist, his fingers curled into a loose fist, unable to completely get the strength to make them anything more. His eyes were red, watery and he didn't look at all familiar. She almost wanted to step back, to stare at him and ask who he was and where he had come from. Surely you can't be…she would say, Surely you're not…

He was though and they both knew it. The familiarity of this stranger was astounding and she tried to find something in him that had made him the person he had been before. The man that she had looked up to. Her private hero, someone she wanted to be like. She had seen the way he conducted his classes, the way the students were attached to him in spite of themselves, the way he handled himself in front of them and everyone else. And she had wanted to do just that, to be that strong and that sure in front of so many people that had nothing better to do then judge. And she had been judged plenty of times and so many times she had come up short. But he hadn't, he always gave them exactly what they were looking for.

And she had always felt that if she could be like him then everything would be great, everything would work out and she would be happy, the sort of happy that came at the end of movies when the end credits began to roll and people started to leave the theatre. But there wasn't going to be a happy ending now, not anymore, she could see that right away. Her life wasn't going to have that movie theatre ending that made people forget for two hours how terrible things really were. No, things weren't going to be like that because she wasn't going to be given the chance to forget. Not now. Not anymore. Not when she was looking at the shell of a man she had once admired, someone who had changed so much she couldn't even remember why that was anymore.

It killed her to admit that there was nothing about this man, the person he had become, that should be admired or looked up to. There was nothing about him that made him a hero. He hated what he did, he was afraid of what might happen, he loathed the students he had once sought to inspire. She couldn't be like that, she didn't want to be like that, didn't want to be like him anymore.

Maybe she should blame herself for the strange hatred, the pseudo detachment that she was currently feeling, maybe she should hold herself responsible for the fact that she only wanted to condemn this man. This half-person. This imposter. This poor substitute for the man that she needed. After all, if she hadn't forced himself up on that pedestal, if she hadn't expected him to show her how to be completely happy, then she wouldn't be feeling this way now. If she hadn't made him her hero, her guiding light then she wouldn't notice how the light had been extinguished.

Maybe it had been a lot to ask of one person. Maybe she shouldn't have placed such high expectations on him. Maybe she shouldn't have expected so much from him. Maybe she shouldn't have made him into so much. Maybe then she would be able to care more about what he was going through then what he was doing to her. Maybe she would be able to help him hang onto what was left instead of measure him by what he no longer had.

Maybe she shouldn't have expected so much. Maybe she shouldn't have needed so much.

But whatever the case, she knew that this man was no longer her hero.

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